If at First
by shield-maiden
Summary: They Grey family come to the XMansion looking for Professor X's help and Jean meets a boy with Ruby Quartz lenses for the first time.
1. If At First

Disclaimer: What else? I don't own X-Men Evolution or the characters therein. Happy? Good.

AN: Yeah, not sure if this is gonna be a stand alone or evolve into something larger. I guess I'll just have to think on it and figure where exactly I'd go with it. Anyways, enjoy.

* * *

Jean watched her parents go into Professor Xavier's study while she waited out in the hall. "Grown-up talk, sweetie," Daddy told her, even though she was fifteen. "We'll call you in soon." She didn't have to be a telepath to know that meant they were going to be talking about her and didn't want her to hear. It was probably something bad. She had almost gone into her father's mind, tried to pry the information he wanted to hide from her out of him. She always relaxed as much as possible before using her powers, the Professor must have sensed something because he gave her a pointed look as though to say, "No, we don't read minds here, people's thoughts are private". Rebuked, she had slid into the chair next to the door, crossing her arms like a spoiled child.

"So, are you a natural redhead?" The boy's voice snapped her out of her pouting. She looked down the hall where he leaned on a doorframe. Jean had seen him when she first arrived at the mansion. He had been spying then as well, hidden down a side hallway. She had felt him gawking at her.

"Yes, I am," she snapped, "not that it matters all that much at the moment."

He shrugged. "Just curious, no need to get upset."

"I'm not getting..." a vase shuddered on the table next to her and she stopped, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "I'm just nervous."

"Apparently," he smirked

"So," she asked, " you do what, exactly?"

He tapped his ruby red shades, "Optic Beams." Noting her confusion he shrugged, "it's not really indoor friendly, but I'll show you later."

"I'm not staying," she told him. " Professor Xavier's going to fix my powers and I'll be normal again. You just wait, you'll see."

"I don't think that's the way it works," he answered.

"But it does, I know it does."

"Don't you think if the professor could fix my eyes he would?"

"That's not the same thing," she reasoned, "that's freak stuff."

"But going into people's minds and throwing vases isn't?"

"I didn't throw that vase!"

"But you could some day."

Jean had no reply to that so she stared at the wood floor. The boy kept politely silent, watching Jean convince herself that her beliefs were right. "Why do you keep staring at me," she asked.

"I'm not," he replied, "I'm watching with polite interest.

"Well it's creepy."

"I'll try not to do it anymore. So, what's your name?"

"Jean."

"Jean what?"

"Grey."

"Well, Jean Grey, I'm Scott Summers."

"So, _Scott Summers_," she mocked " how old are you?"

"Fifteen...I'm going to be sixteen end of August though."

"That's almost three months away, you can't go boasting about a birthday when it's three months away."

"Maybe you can't," he replied.

"Well...Happy Birthday early, I guess. Sorry I won't be able to make it to the party."

"Oh, don't worry about it, I'll make sure you're invited...even if the professor does "fix you"."

"Now you're poking fun," Jean pouted.

"Me? Poking fun at you? That's impossible, there's nothing funny about you."

She smiled, "Now I know you're lying."

The creak of the door caused Jean's head to snap towards the sound. There her parents were, followed by the Professor. "Well," she prompted, "are you going to do it? Are you going to fix me?"

"Pumpkin," Mom started, her eyes revealing how upsetting the news was to her.

Daddy finished what Mom could not. "Sweetie, the Professor thinks it's best if you stay here for a while. Really get a handle on those powers of yours."

"But, Dad..."

"Just for the summer," Daddy's voice rose, commanding her attention. "If you get better at controlling your...abilities, you can come home in time for school in the fall."

"What if I can't," Jean asked, her voice nervously speeding up as her brain tried to take in all this meant. "What if it never gets better? What if I'm stuck like this? Can I still come home?"

Mom shook her head, tears coming to her eyes and Daddy put his arm around her. "You can come visit but...we, your mother and I, we think it might be best then if you stay here."

They were abandoning her. She wasn't good enough for the family. They had her older sister Sara; they didn't need a little red-haired freak running around screwing everything up, breaking furniture as she had the other day. "NO! You can't leave me here with these people! I promise to be good, I promise, I won't break anything anymore or hear people's thoughts. I'll stop, just let me come home with you, I don't want to stay here."

"Jean," Daddy let go of Mom's shoulder and went to embrace Jean. Jean pushed him away, "no," she yelled, "not until you promise I can come home."

"I can't promise that, sweetie. You need help; you need to be here, just for a short while. We love you, that's why we're doing this."

Jean cried. She knew she was making a scene, knew Scott Summers over there must think she was a baby but she didn't care. Words came out of her parent's mouths but she didn't register any of them, they were all lies anyways. If they loved her so much why did they want her to stay here? And then she felt it. A force welling up inside her that suddenly shot outwards. She watched in a mixture of satisfaction and horror as it threw objects and people backwards. The vase that had jiggled earlier smashed to the ground. Her parents looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. They hated her now, how could they not? Her heart continued to beat rapidly and her breathing refused to slow down. Jean could feel that inner power stretching out again, pushing other things around, toppling statues and chairs, smashing them against the wall.

_Jean_, a voice soothed. It wasn't a voice connected to a body. Not really. It wasn't a familiar voice either. _Calm down_, the voice said, and then she realized who it was. Professor Xavier sat in his chair, knocked back a few feet, fingers on his temples. _Take a deep breath and try to center yourself. You can do it._ Jean closed her eyes and nodded. A deep breath came in the nose and out through the mouth. She could feel some sort of presence, most likely the Professor, pushing her along, helping her to calm down as requested. The force inside her calmed, like a wind dying down after a storm.

She opened her eyes and took in the destruction. Her hand came up to cover her mouth. Jean couldn't believe she had caused all of this. Chairs, tables, planters and a few picture frames littered the floor. "I..." she couldn't find the words to express how sorry she was. In the past few months she had never caused this much damage. The most that flew around were maybe a couple saltshakers or newspapers. Every once in a while when she got really upset maybe a chair would smash against the wall or a glass would break. All of the broken items at home did not total this.

"It's alright," Professor Xavier told her. "I understand how hard it is to keep these kinds of things under control."

Mom ran forward, giving her a big hug, followed closely by Daddy. "Jean," she said, "Oh, my baby. I'm so sorry."

"No," Jean replied, "I'm sorry", she pushed back any tears in her eyes, knowing how quickly it could escalate into another disaster. "I understand now."

"We love you, honey," Daddy told her, giving her a squeeze, "We just want what's best for you."

"I know, and you're right. I need to stay here. You'll send the rest of my things, right?"

"Of course," Mom said. Jean nodded, breaking off the hug, she knew her first impression had already been ruined but she had to gain back some semblance of being a cool teenager.

"Professor Xavier, I'd like to help pay for the damages," Jean told him.

He shook his head, "No need, these things happen. I'm just glad you understand now how important control is."

"I do, I know I do."

"Alright", he smiled, " despite all of the excitement for today perhaps you'd like a tour of the grounds."

Jean nodded, as her parents voiced their agreements.

The place was huge but it still seemed like a place she could call home and after it was done they all sat down to dinner where she was introduced to Ms. Monroe. It seemed Professor Xavier had helped some "gifted people" already. He never used the word "freak" and only rarely used "mutant" to describe Jean's condition.

Hours later her parents left for home, leaving Jean and her small suitcase. She shook her head as she thought of how her parents had convinced her to pack one, "just in case we have to stay a couple days." Jean wondered if somehow they knew that she wouldn't be coming back home with them, at least not right away.

"Hey, Jean," Scott Summers whispered as she started to disappear inside her new room, "want another tour?"

"What?" Jean turned around, confused. "We already had a tour."

"Yeah, but you didn't see everything."

"I'm actually kind of tired..."

"Come on," he prodded, "it won't take long."

"Fine, but I don't see what we possibly didn't see on the tour earlier unless there's a secret room where he houses wild jungle animals."

"Nope, better." They wound their way through hallways and down stairs until coming upon a service elevator. Jean had supposed there must be more than one elevator in the mansion. Why Scott was showing her this dumb service elevator she didn't know but followed anyways. Looking at the panel she realized there were far more buttons in this elevator than the other one and watched as Scott pushed one marked "sub-basement 3".

"There's more than one basement here?"

"Sub-basement 3 is much more than just some dumb basement. It's...well, I'll show you." The door opened to a long metal hallway. "Come on," he urged, stepping out, and she followed.

Scott led her down the hall and gestured at certain doors talking about a "Cerebro", "jets" and "The Danger Room". When he stopped outside said room and told Jean she should step inside her stomach dropped. "Scott, it has to be called a Danger Room for a reason."

"Yeah, and you'll be using it by the end of the week anyways so why don't you step inside and I'll give you a demonstration of my powers?"

"It's safe...right? I mean, nothing's going to jump out and..."

"I'll keep you safe, don't worry." And she believed him.

As it turned out when Scott told her he had "optic blasts" he wasn't kidding. Red beams shot out of his eyes and blasted everything in sight. _Like Superman_, she thought, _only he can't fly, leap tall buildings in a single bound, run faster than a speeding bullet...Oh, stop it Jean, you're not superheroes you're just people_.

Jean let out a yawn.

"I'm not boring you, am I," Scott asked. Jean shook her head, and glanced at her watch. "It's just been a long day. I felt tired after...well... after I destroyed the hallway. It wore me out."

"I wouldn't know about that," Scott replied. "My powers are kind of stuck in the 'on' position. But, I guess, the professor will want to give you a tour of these levels tomorrow and we get up at the crack of dawn...rather annoying really. I'll, uh, walk you back to your room, if you like."

"Alright," Jean said. She was actually a little taken back by the thought of a boy wanting to walk her to her room. It was almost like an equivalent to carrying one's books. She couldn't get attached to him, though, no matter how good looking or sweet. After all, a couple hours in a strange place made anyone you met seem like a nice person. Besides, there was no use getting attached when she'd be leaving by the end of summer.


	2. Early On

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men Evolution or its characters. Big surprise, huh?

AN: Well, I decided to give it a go as a multi-chapter affair. I'm tough, I think I can handle it...maybe.

* * *

When Scott said they got up early at the Institute he wasn't kidding. After a week Jean was still trying to get used to the early training sessions. Five thirty was a little early for her brain, if not her body. She forced herself to get out of bed and ready herself for a vigorous workout.

Jean dug around in her dresser for a T-shirt and shorts. Scott had made a passing comment about uniforms the other day, but she hadn't followed up on the matter. Jean threw her hair up into a ponytail, pulled on a pair of socks and slipped her feet into a pair of trainers. A glance at the clock told Jean she didn't have time to brush her teeth. She breathed into her hand and took a whiff. Morning breath, but not too bad; she'd just have to avoid breathing in Scott's face, which shouldn't be that hard.

Scott was actually waiting for her in the hallway, similarly dressed, although it appeared he had opted out of brushing his hair, that or he had run out of time. " 'Morning", he greeted.

" 'Morning," she replied, following him down the hall. She really had no idea what it was that possessed him to do that, wait for her so they could walk down together. It wasn't that he thought she would get lost. It was just one of those things that made him so...him. "Any idea what we're in for today?"

"Not a clue," he replied.

"What they were "in for" was a run. Jean had to keep herself from laughing when the Professor told them that. He personally had probably not run in...maybe forever, and here he was telling them to do what he couldn't. Truthfully, she didn't always see the point in these training sessions. Apparently the Professor believed that discipline of the body somehow equated to discipline of the mind. Most of the time Ms. Monroe handled the sessions, often opting for a light jog followed by yoga or Tai Chi rather than push-ups and a hard run, but she was gone. Professor Xavier claimed he was preparing them for the friend Ms. Monroe would be bringing back, who would be taking over their training.

Jean secretly wondered when the Professor was really going to address her little telekinesis problem (she was still making vases shake and papers fly). That's what he called her ability to move things with her mind: telekinesis. The Professor never called it a "problem" though; it was a "gift".

"Ready," Scott asked, doing a little jog in place.

"Yeah," she replied, and they headed off.

"Up before the sun," Jean joked, noticing the skyline was still a bright pink.

"Nah, the sun pulls an all nighter on the other side of the world and drinks a cup of coffee to stay awake for the next day."

Jean laughed but didn't say anything else, knowing she would have to save her breath to make it through the run. Sure, she was a soccer player, but the most talking she did on the field was a quick "Open" or "Behind you". The lung capacity needed to jog and carry on a conversation was something she just didn't have.

Their path wound through Bayville, past homes and businesses. Jean took note of the ice cream store's location as well as the high school. Scott had extended invitations for a tour of the town multiple times since her arrival but she had declined each and every one. It was part of her mental battle not to get attached. The more it all became a part of her life, the harder it would be to leave come fall.

And Jean wanted to go home more than anything. She wanted to see her sister; wanted to take the dog for a walk. She missed her room, her house, her family...missed James Blake, the cutest boy in school. Not that they were dating or anything, but he had invited her to a party he was throwing in July. Not wanting to kid herself Jean had called to decline earlier in the week. He wouldn't want to date her anyways. Not anymore. She had told him her family was taking a weeklong trip to New York. If he knew the real reason he'd never speak to her again. He'd probably tell her she should date other freaks.

Jean didn't know a lot of freaks like her. Well, there was Scott, but he wasn't really a freak. Sure, he had to wear those goofy glasses but so did plenty of people who couldn't read the chalkboard at school. She supposed it wasn't the same thing exactly; other people didn't have to worry about optic blasts making holes in roofs. Jean took a side-glance at her running partner. He was still keeping a good pace and...was a little bit ahead of her! He had obviously taken a run through Bayville more than this once. Jean picked up her pace to catch up with him and settled back into her stride. Scott just laughed.

They returned to the Institute tired, sweaty, and hungry just as the early summer heat had begun to set in, the sun planted in a blue sky. Jean opted to stave her hunger first. No matter how sticky and dirty she felt after that run her stomach had decided to push it's way to the top of her priority list. Scott on the other hand ran straight upstairs towards the bathroom.

Jean was just finishing her cornflakes when Scott came back downstairs, rubbing a towel against his still wet hair. "Man, you're either a slow eater or I take super speedy showers," he prodded.

"I...didn't know what to eat," Jean replied. It was true. A mansion like this with just about anything she could hope to eat and she found herself unintrigued by any and all food despite her growling stomach. The cornflakes had seemed like the compromise of the year.

"So you ate a bowl of cornflakes?"

"Cornflakes are alright," she defended. "They're high in fiber and low in sugar...they taste like...corn..."

"With that stunning review I guess I'll have the same," he replied, grabbing a bowl for himself. "So, I was thinking," he said as he poured the flakes and milk, "it's supposed to be really nice out today and I was thinking maybe you might want to go swimming. I mean, it wouldn't cost anything because the Prof has his own private pool."

Jean slowly lifted her last spoonful of soggy cornflakes to her mouth and chewed, trying to think of a lie. It wasn't that she didn't like to swim, because she really enjoyed swimming. It all came back to the issue of getting attached. If she spent more time with this boy she might actually end up _liking _him. Not like as in enjoyed spending time with him, she already thought he was a nice guy, but _like like_, as in "want to date him" _like._ She didn't think she could handle that. She didn't want to _like like_ someone when she would be going back to her hometown in the fall. She didn't want to turn Scott Summers into a penpal whom she happened to find attractive. "Um," she finally replied, "I don't have my bathing suit. Didn't pack one and Mom must have forgotten to put one in the last package she sent." Truth of the matter was she had a green bikini in her underwear drawer upstairs.

"Alright," he nodded, "Well, in that case maybe you'd want to go bowling or see a movie...I think they've got laser tag at the arcade."

"Well...just because I don't have a suit doesn't mean you can't go swimming," Jean told him.

He shrugged. "I've done my fair share of swimming already in that pool. It won't kill me to wait for your suit to get sent. It's the beginning of a beautiful day, we should go out and do something."

Jean didn't know what to say except "Uh, let me go take a shower first and then we'll talk about it."

"Alright," he smiled and, as though left void of any free will, she smiled back.


	3. Rocky Relations

Disclaimer: Did you really think I would own something by this chapter? I don't have that kind of money.

* * *

Jean crossed the parking lot of the Bowl-O-Rama with Scott Summers. She couldn't believe he talked her into going bowling this afternoon. Almost equally unbelievable was how old the bowling alley was. It seemed unchanged from when it was built, ugly carpeting and orange walls. Scott had ordered a game and had begun on shoe sizes. "One size twelve and one," he looked questioningly at Jean. "A women's size seven," she supplied. Jean balked at the rental shoes. "You can't expect me to actually wear these she hissed," as they walked to lane five.

"Sure do," he told her, testing out bowling balls as he walked.

"But, they're... clown shoes," she told him.

"Oh, yeah? And what do you call these?" Scott raised his own pair of two-toned avocado and gold shoes.

"Ugly," she replied, trying to convince herself that her own pair of red and gold weren't that bad.

"Does it really matter what they look like," Scott asked. "They're just shoes...ones that'll slide on the wood floor...just make sure you don't step on the greased lane," he laughed, "did that once and landed flat on my back...it was purely accidental."

"Sure it was."

Upon reaching lane five they sat down and put on their respective clown shoes. Scott quickly tied his and walked over to a small desk. "Should I put you down as one or two?"

"Um..."Jean glanced over, "Oh, you've got to be kidding. They don't have automatic scorers?"

"Nope," Scott shook his head. "I'll just put you down as one, I guess..."

"But, I don't know how to keep score."

"I do," Scott responded, " I can teach you how if you like."

"Fine," Jean sighed. "So, I'm first, huh?"

Scott nodded, getting up to join Jean in finding the proper ball.

* * *

Scott watched Jean intently as she picked up her bright green ball, leaving his florescent pink one in the ball return. They were midway through their second game and Scott was beginning to doubt that Jean did much bowling at home. More often than not her throws ended up in the gutter. "Y'know," he told her, "It's still not too late to pull down the bumpers."

She shot him a glare. "I don't need bumpers. Besides, I think I'm getting better." Scott got up and began to walk over, "At least let me show you how to aim," he pleaded.

"Oh, I think I can aim fine by myself," Jean told him, motioning him back to his seat. She smirked before widening her stance and taking a potty shot down the middle of the lane. Jean watched with satisfaction as the ball glided down the lane but quickly became worried as it veered left. "No," she said, giving a frustrated wave. "Aw, man! Straight in the gutter," she exclaimed. And then she heard it, a guy's disconnected voice saying _She's so cute when she gets all upset_.

Jean whipped around and saw a very surprised Scott. _Oh, shit I think she heard me_... "Yes, Mr. Summers, I heard that."

"Look," Scott said, cheeks burning, "can we just forget I thought that?"

Jean shook her head. " I don't think I can. It's stuck in there."

"Oh, come on. It's not my fault you're telepathic," he exclaimed.

Jean turned hostile, "Well, maybe you should learn not to project so loud."

"Maybe you should stop prying into other people's thoughts."

"I don't pry," Jean shot back.

"Could have fooled me," he returned.

"Let's just go home," she told him, cringing inwardly at the use of home to describe the Institute.

"Fine," he snapped, sliding off his bowling shoes.

Jean forced her tears back as the two walked back to the Institute in silence. She hadn't meant to hear him. In fact she wished she hadn't. There'd always be that small part in her head telling her he couldn't just be a friend. If someone as open as Scott could get offended for something mentally overheard what about the rest of the world? Jean scuffed her feet on the sidewalk, trying her best not to do any more prying, no matter how much she wanted to know what he was thinking she remembered the Professor telling her that they don't read each other's minds. So she kept her mouth and mental ear shut, trying to work up the courage to apologize.

Scott was buried in thoughts of his own. He hadn't meant to think that, it just happened. He really hoped Jean didn't think he was just another guy with thoughts on just one thing. It wasn't that he didn't think about that but it definitely wasn't at the top of his list of things he normally thought about. _Why did she take it so personal_, he wondered. _A guy can think a person's cute without it meaning anything, right?_ He glanced over at Jean who seemed miserable on all counts. "Look, I'm sorry," he blurted. "I shouldn't have...it's just...you are cute, when you're all upset that is. Not that you're not normally cute but you should have seen yourself waving and whispering at that ball."

Jean's lips curled into a smile. "You think I'm cute?"

Scott came to a halt. Was this some kind of trick question? "I just said so...didn't I?"

She nodded. "Just checking," she said, "because with all that mumbling and stuttering I wasn't quite sure what you were saying...but you were very cute doing it."

He crossed his arms, "Oh, you think so, huh?"

"Yeah, Shades, I do." She watched with glee as he once more turned a shade of red.

"So, everything's forgiven? Put it behind us," he questioned.

"Yeah," she answered.

* * *

When they returned to the Institute Jean sighed, giving Scott her regrets at not joining him for some TV time. She had something more important to do. Jean walked down the hall and into the Professor's study. "Sorry, for interrupting," she said, noticing Ms. Monroe and some man she had never seen before, "I just wanted to talk to you about...something."

"You did some mind reading today."

Jean started upon hearing his assessment. "How did you know?"

"Scott projects rather loudly, doesn't he?" Xavier smiled, " I heard him on your walk home, berating himself for upsetting you."

"Oh," Jean mumbled.

"I think," he continued, "that it might be time for us to start working on your mental shields."

"Really," she exclaimed.

He nodded, "Really. You've had suitable time to settle in, and with comfort comes the ability to calm down enough to gain control. I'll see you tonight one half hour after dinner. Now if you don't mind I have some more to discuss with Ororo and Logan."

"Oh, of course," Jean had forgotten for a moment that the two others were in the room. She hurried out of the room, stopping only to take one second glance at the wild-looking man. So, that was the friend Ms. Monroe was bringing back with her. He looked tough.

Jean was so excited she ran down the hall to tell Scott. She didn't quite have a reason why Scott would be excited for her, but he had been pretty supportive the entire week since her arrival, so she figured it couldn't hurt. "Scott," she blurted as she burst through the door to the TV room, "guess what."

"Aliens have landed and the only thing that can kill them is your ability to get a gutter ball?"

"No," Jean grinned. " Professor Xavier thinks I can start working on controlling my powers! I mean, think, I've been here a week and he's finally decided we can work on them. I thought at the rate he was going we wouldn't get around to it for another month but we're working on my telepathy tonight! If I learn really fast I might really be able to go home by fall. My parents will take me back, I won't be a freak anymore...I'll be normal...well, mostly normal...Scott?" She noticed the boy's face change from alight with interest to closed off, distant. "Isn't that great," she tested.

"Yeah, great," he said, but she didn't believe him.

"Are...you alright," she asked.

"Fine," he snapped. "That's great that you'll get to go home in the fall. Wonderful."

"What's got you," Jean asked.

"Nothing," he lied, she knew it was a lie by his body language, his tone of voice. "Everything's great. The only person in this dumb place my own age is going to be 'cured' by the end of summer. Peachy."

"Oh, Scott, I didn't mean...I was just so excited I didn't think before I spoke. I forgot you can't..."

"Can't control mine? Yeah, I know how easy it is to forget that." His voice was clipped, as he quickly flipped through television stations.

"Can't leave," she finished, recalling that Scott didn't have a family to go home to. The Institute was his family, always would be. "Guess what else," she asked.

"Pigs are flying out of my ears," he tartly replied.

"No, the Professor's friend is here. His name's Logan."

This statement perked Scott up. "You saw the guy," he asked. "What...what's he like?"

"Scary," she supplied, happy to see the excited Scott she had come to know. "Shorter than you I suspect, bluish black hair...he doesn't seem at all fun, Scott."

"Well, he's not here to make us have fun, he's here to train us for...I don't know, the apocalypse. Wonder if he'll end up joining us for dinner."

"Why wouldn't he?"

"Sometimes the Professor's friends choose not to. Couple years ago this gray haired man showed up, spent hours in the Professor's study yelling about all sorts of mutant-related stuff, called him a fool and left."

"Who was it," Jean asked.

"Not a clue," Scott told her.

"Hmm." How strange, Jean thought before snatching the remote out of Scott's hands. " _What Not to Wear_ is on, if we change the station now we might still catch the person before they become un-frumpified."

Scott just shook his head. "Whatever you say, not like there's really anything on anyways."

Jean smiled, putting in the proper numbers before settling into the couch and pushing any thoughts of Xavier's friends or telepathy classes out of her head.


	4. Evening Trials Morning Tribulations

Ooh, disclaimer! I own nothing, nada, zip!

* * *

Logan had actually decided to join them for dinner, but it was really the last thing on Jean's mind. Scott, on the other hand, engaged the man in a lively conversation of battles and tactics. Jean tried to focus on the meatloaf in front of her, keeping her mind on a tight leash. She was so excited she could hardly contain herself and practically yelled out in delight when she was told to clear the plates while Scott got the dishwater ready.

Jean cleared the table like she'd never cleared the table before, often glancing at the clock, counting down the minutes. She had enough time afterwards to brush her teeth and sit down for a moment. She bit her nails anxiously, thoughts running through her head. What would it be like? Would it make any difference? And then it was time. Jean walked down the hallway to the Professor's study. He was sitting, waiting for her. "Hello, Jean," he greeted. "Ready?"

"You bet." Jean positively glowed as she walked over, taking the seat across from the Professor.

"Alright," the Professor told her, "tonight we're going to work on pulling your powers inward."

"Pulling it in," Jean repeated.

He nodded. "Yes, before you can send your telepathy outward I'd like you to be able to rein it in. Now," He wheeled a little closer, "I'm going to help you through it, take you a level of the astral plane so you can see how your telepathy flows outward from you, and you therefore have the ability to pull it back."

"What's the Astral Plane," she asked.

"It's a place of pure thought. Its name is just a label, it doesn't define it." He placed his fingers lightly on her temples. "Now, if you'd just relax," he told her.

Jean took a deep breath, two, three, four, another, two, three, four. _Ready_, a voice questioned. _Yes_, she answered. _Here we go_, the voice told her. Stepping into her inner psyche was like stepping into a warm bath, comforting, and relaxing. At the same time though, it was unfamiliar. She had been expecting nothing but blackness, like when she closed her eyes. Instead a vision of pinks and reds met her inner eye. _Wonder if this is what Scott sees every day_.

_I'd thank you to keep your mind on the task at hand, please_, the Professor reminded.

_Oh, right, sorry_, she apologized.

_That's alright. Now, I want you to focus on pulling all that color inward, not obliterating it, but holding it close, increasing its intensity. It will be easiest if you focus on where the red ends. _

_It ends?_ Jean focused, taking in the greater whole, then she realized she wasn't on the inside, looking out, she was on the outside, looking down. Her whole body glowed in shades of pink and red, and she had been looking at the very center of herself. Taking in the whole she realized it became lighter and wispy the further from her heart it got, which Jean found amusing. She had thought that if her power emminated from some point it would be her head, not her hear. Tendrils of psychic energy reached outward towards the chair she sat on as well as the professor, one particularly stubborn one reached outward, towards the door. _I see them_. She concentrated, on the more easy-going wisps, those that simply deteriorated into nothing at her fingertips. They obliged, moving towards her center. It seemed like forever before she decided to tackle the stubborn one, reaching towards the door. She yanked, and it pulled. Jean focused, harder than she had for the other ones, knowing this one seemed to have an ulterior motive. _Professor_, she called.

_Here, Jean, let me help you_. A blue power mingled with hers, forcing the tendril to retreat towards the center. Like a cattle dog rounding up sheep the Professor helped her to steer her power inside herself. When all seemed in place his voice spoke again, _it's time to come back._

_Come back,_ Jean wondered. She was already home here in her mind, but she obligingly followed the Professor's instructions, pulling away from the inner warmth to the air-conditioned study. Jean was glad for the chair, for she doubted she would have been able to support her self. "I'm exhausted," she said, voice barely audible.

"It will get easier," he assured her.

"That tendril..." she started.

"Simply an undisciplined psyche trying to reach out to another mind." _Scott_, she thought; he was the only one in the Institute she had made a connection with. "You're excused from tomorrow's morning training session, but you're due back here same time tomorrow. Do you think you'll be able to make it back to your room?"

Jean steadied herself on the arms of the chair and pushed herself up. She collapsed back into the seat. "Probably not," she responded.

"I'll call someone to help you." Xavier reached out, searching for someone nearby. Logan was the closest but he knew the two weren't familiar enough to make either comfortable with a helping hand. Ororo was up in her tower, tending her plants, which left Scott, who was reading in his room. _Scott, would you be so kind as to help Jean back to her room?_

_No problem, Professor_, came the reply. He made it to the study in record time. Jean blushed, she couldn't believe she needed help getting to her room, let alone that Scott would be helping her. She had already proven herself to be a cry-baby in front of him when she had arrived and now that she had dispelled that label she had a new one on her hands, that of the weak girl. "Hey, Jean," he said, "Heard you needed a little help?"

She nodded, "Yeah, just a little."

"Alright then," he told her walking over to the chair. Scott made a nervous noise in his throat as he helped Jean wrap her arm around his neck, fingers clasping, and his other arm grabbed her about her waist. "Count of three," he said, "One, two, three," he lifted upwards as Jean pushed up with her legs.

"Thanks," Jean said quietly.

"We haven't made it to your room yet," he reminded her. They walked slowly out the door. Jean hadn't realized it took so much energy to walk. She felt bad that Scott had to slow down to assist her. As they walked down the hall Scott cleared his throat and asked, "So, it was a real mental workout, huh?"

"Yeah," she responded.

"Y'know, Jean, if you're that tired I could...well..."

"Scott, what are you talking about?"

"This," Scott responded, letting go of her to sweep his arm under her legs and Jean felt herself lifted into the air. She found herself cradled in Scott's arms as he marched down the hall to her room, "See? Much faster, and I figure you'd like to get some sleep as soon as possible."

"True but," she didn't know what she could say in retort. They reached her room and Jean tried to make the excuse that she could make her way to her bed by herself but Scott would hear nothing of the sort saying that he had promised the Professor that he would help her back to her room and he wasn't going to stop short of seeing her safely inside. Jean had nothing to say to that reasoning, partly because she was fighting to stay awake. She whispered her thanks as Scott set her on her bed and pulled back the covers. "It's no problem," he told her with a smile, "Good night." Jean watched him go and then slipped off her shoes before letting sleep take hold of her.

* * *

"No, you're still not seein' it, are you," Wolverine growled for what seemed to Scott like the hundredth time that morning. It became very apparent that Logan was an expert at hand to hand combat and took training of new "troops' very seriously. He wondered how Jean would react to Logan's constant criticism.

"Here, come over here," Logan advised, pulling him over to the large bay window that looked in on the kitchen. "Can you see your reflection? If you can't, move until you can." Scott did as he was told, too tired to argue. They'd been at this for over an hour. By this time Scott was convinced his new teacher might never dismiss him for breakfast.

"Alright, run through that combo again," he instructed. Scott performed two punches and a kick. "Now do you see it," Logan asked. Scott merely looked questioningly. "Your stance," Logan bellowed, "You're droppin' your stance!"

Scott stared at his reflection and realized it was true and adjusted accordingly. "Alright," Logan told him, "ten more and you're done if you make sure you're watchin' your stance."

With the prize of food in his empty stomach Scott nodded. He had to adjust his stance every time, but Logan seemed none the less pleased. "Now you're gettin' it. An enemy'll look for an opening; they'll pick up on your balance if it's off. You gotta learn to look for the same in them. When I get through with you there ain't gonna be an off balance bone in your body."

"Great," Scott said grudgingly, completing combo number ten.

"Alright, hit the showers and get some chow."

Scott started for the nearest door but stopped when he realized Logan wasn't following him. "You coming," he asked.

"In a minute," came the gruff reply, "I got my own stuff to do first."

Scott nodded, retreating into the house; he didn't need to be told twice that he was dismissed. He smiled when he saw Jean at the breakfast table, bowl of cereal sitting in front of her, though it looked like she hadn't touched it. "Still worn out," he questioned.

"Kinda," she responded, in actuality she had begun staring into space right after pouring milk onto the Frosted Flakes (she'd upgraded since yesterday). While she sat staring into her bowl of cereal she had started to contemplate if she could go onto the Astral Plane by herself, just to see if her powers had wandered again.

"Well, you can always go back to bed," Scott told her, popping some bread in the toaster.

"Nah, I'm up now. So..."she took a bite of the soggy flakes and grimaced at the mushy feel, "how was training with Logan."

"More work than I would have thought possible. You'd think he was preparing us for some kind of war."

"Isn't that kind of what this whole place is about," Jean asked, and quickly covered her mouth. She couldn't believe she'd just said that! The words had come completely unbidden out of her mouth. On some level she knew the words were true, why else would a man such as the professor be gathering mutants to his home and teach them to control their powers as well as physical combat? It was all so suspicious.

"No, it's not what this place is about," Scott responded, shocked. "That's not the point at all. Everyone should have some basic concept of how to defend themselves. Besides, don't you think mutants have some kind of responsibility to use their powers for good?"

Jean winced at the word mutant...she hated thinking of herself in those terms.

"Whatever, not like I'm staying here for forever anyways." Jean could feel Scott's

eyes upon her after she said that but he didn't say anything in response, he just buttered his toast and rummaged in the refrigerator for some jelly.


	5. This Isn't Over

Disclaimer: Oh, come on, you know this already if you've been keeping up…sigh alright, alright…mutters no, I don't own Scott and Jean…satisfied?

A/N: Sorry this took soo long. I had major writer's block…and got distracted by RPGing…it's a terrible distraction to my writing. I get all caught up in my characters' stories and then forget to write about dear Scotty boy and Jean. Also, college is being a real pain in the arse…lots of stuff to do and time has been tight. But here it is. Thank you all for being so patient.

* * *

Life once again settled into a rhythm. Training with Logan in the mornings, extra sessions with Xavier in the evenings. Everything in between was time for herself. Well, not exactly all to herself, she spent a good deal of it with Scott. Being the only other person her age she knew to also be a mutant it seemed the sensible thing to do was hang out with him. If something happened there wouldn't be a nervous explanation as to why the can of soda went flying across the backyard or a private thought was projected into his head. And other than the small disagreement at breakfast there hadn't been any problems, although Scott seemed to be a bit quiet, thoughtful. 

"Red, are you even in the same backyard as us," Logan's gruff voice asked.

"Huh?"

"Apparently not," Logan responded. "I said we're done. Get some chow, hit the showers, call it a day."

"Oh…yeah…" Jean shook her head, trying to clear her mind. Jean slowly started walking towards the house and stopped when she realized Scott wasn't right beside her. She turned around and saw him talking with Logan, catching tidbits of their conversation Jean realized Scott was asking the man if he'd sit in for Ororo from now on when he practiced driving. Jean knew the woman made him nervous, felt it every time Ororo told Scott he could drive them to the supermarket for groceries. She didn't hear the man's gruff response but judging Scott's expression it must have been an affirmative. Deciding she'd spent enough time eavesdropping Jean headed to the door, just catching the tail end of Scott outlining how many more behind the wheel hours he needed before his road test.

While Scott had the not so far off road test on his mind Jean had her own things to practice. Any spare moment she got was a chance to levitate a scrap of paper or a piece of fuzz; never anything big, although Scott had tried and failed to talk her into levitating a spade the other day(1). Jean shook her head, remembering it all and peered outside to see Scott's cheeks still just a bit red from the sunburn he'd received. Stubborn. That's what he was. Jean glanced at the thermometer before concentrating on the radio dial to turn it on. A bit of static and the radio came to life, replacing silence with a cheerful female voice as music faded. "You're listening to the hits of the oldies, James Taylor "You Got a Friend' and now a look at the weather…" Well, judging by the thermometer and the forecast they were right on their way to having a scorcher.

That afternoon Scott stared out from the air-conditioned house at the pool. July was only a few days away and it seemed summer had begun it's attack a few days ago, reaping vengeance upon Bayville for thinking they would have a few more weeks of 70s. Scott longed to take a dip in the pool, had wanted to for weeks, but was waiting for Jean's parents to send her bathing suit. He could always go ahead without her but had promised he would wait…there would be plenty of time to swim. Although, considering it was halfway through summer Scott was beginning to wonder if Jean really didn't have her swimsuit already and was just making excuses.

The ring of the doorbell made Scott's head turn towards the foyer. "Got it," Jean called, accompanied by the quick sound of her rushing down the stairs. Never the less, Scott walked into the hall. A grin plastered on his face when he saw Jean close the door, package in hand. "Finally came, huh?"

"What," Jean asked.

"Your swim suit; took long enough for them to send it."

"Oh…yeah, hope it's in here," she said, her mind thinking of the green two-piece up in her room. She had lied about not packing a suit the first week of her arrival, a ploy to keep her detached. It was now time to either go with the lie or come up with another: that her parents had forgotten. "I'll meet you down by the pool in 15," Scott said, heading towards the stairs, "Couldn't have picked a batter time to arrive with it as hot as it is."

"Yeah," she agreed, following him upstairs. Alone in her room Jean pulled off the packaging tape. Inside were letters from home and a tinfoil package that could only be baked goods. Jean set the letters on top of the bedspread. She wanted to read them, but not now, not with Scott who would undoubtedly be waiting down for her by the pool.

She still couldn't believe he'd forgone using the pool until her parents sent her swimsuit. Jean snatched the suit out of the drawer and changed into it, allowing her to wonder if Sara had gone swimming this year…and then her mind switched to thoughts of home…to James Blake's party. The Party! When had the party been scheduled again? Jean sighed…there was no way she'd be back home by then…there went her chances of dating the most popular guy in her class. He was so cute too! 'Scott's cute too ya know,' a little voice in her head reminded her. 'Scott is just a friend…friends are allowed to be cute and yet elicit no response from the love brain…they're a bridge to more suitable dating material.' 'Whatever,' the voice responded.

"That's right," she muttered, hurrying down the hall to grab a towel, "Just friends."

Jean could feel the hot air hit like a soft breeze as soon as she stepped outside, reminding her to shut the door soundly behind her to maintain the air conditioned state. As she hopped from one foot to the other on the burning pavement she heard a smug voice call out across the yard, "Forget your sandals?" Scott stood poised on the diving board and Jean frowned before giving him a small telekinetic shove…which turned out enough to make him wobble but not fall in. "Nice try," he responded before cannonballing into the water.

She laughed at the resultant splash, though Jean knew she couldn't do much better, "Pitiful." Jean walked up to the edge of the pool, dipping one foot in, taking it out and putting in the other. Jean had never been the type to just jump in.

"Why don't you show me how it's done then," Scott challenged, swimming over to the side.

"Maybe later," Jean told him, taking hold of the ladder and dipping a leg in.

"Why not now?"

"Because…I don't jump in water…not until I'm already wet."

Scott looked at her and by the way his face screwed up Jean knew he was trying to make sense of her statement. "You jump in the shower, don't you," Scott questioned and then blushed a bit, "How's that any different?"

"The shower's _hot_ water."

"So," Scott shrugged, and then without warning splashed the cool water at Jean, who squealed when the water hit her.

"Scott Summers you are so dead," she yelled before hopping in.

"Oh, yeah?" he laughed, splashing her again.

"Yeah," she shouted back, splashing water at him only to find Scott had ducked under the water. _You sneak_, Jean thought, before screeching again as she felt something tug at her ankle and pull her under for a moment. Jean came up splashing and spluttering, water dripping from her hair, which was now flat against her head, obscuring her view. Jean turned around, waiting for him to come up for air. Spotting him, Jean swam over, cursing as Scott went under the water a second time. The next time Scott came up for air he had only a moment before hands grasped his shoulders and pushed him under. '_Payback'_, Jean projected.

Scott bobbed up, swiftly shaking his head to spray water like a wet dog. Jean couldn't help but laugh, "Scott, you look ridiculous!" which prompted another attack from him.

* * *

Wet and exhausted Scott and Jean dragged themselves into the house when Ororo called outside that dinner would be ready in one half hour and it would behoove them to come inside and dry off. "This isn't over," Scott quietly joked under his breath as they headed for the stairs. 

"No, it's not," Jean agreed, equally quiet, "I can't let you get away with that cheap shot you got in." Scott grinned, a tired laugh escaping his lips…he'd thought pulling Jean back into the pool just as she had almost made it out was a brilliant…caught her completely off-guard. Of course, it had also resulted in his being dunked under water for what must have been the hundredth time. Okay, so maybe he was exaggerating, but he'd been dunked a fair share that afternoon.

* * *

That evening, as Jean fell asleep, she couldn't help but mentally mark that day as the best she'd had since coming to the mansion.

* * *

(1)Call a Spade A Spade…a one-shot I wrote that seemed to just fit into the general flow…and then I cursed that since I'd posted it already it couldn't be a chapter. So I just alluded to it…if you've read it great, if you haven't that's fine too, nothing major happens in there to affect the flow of time. 


End file.
